Incest Never Looked So Good
by tura35
Summary: They are trapped between two wrongs, two rights. Denying their love, or dissolving in it. Rated T for Morgencest and minor swearing. Jace/Clary.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't normaly write fanfiction, but I was dissapointed with the amount of Mortal Instrument fanfics so here we are. I apologize if the characters seem OOC to you.**

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**Oh, Yes? Why, In Our House, Familiy Meetings are a Normal Occurence.**

A knock traveled through the halls to the library, where Jace and Clary were researching for their Shadowhunter training. Jace lay sprawled out on a large leather couch at the side of the room, fidgeting nervously. Curled up in an armchair, Clary scanned the thick tomein her lap intently.

Hearing the knock, Jace leaped out off the leather couch he was lying on. "Don't bother getting up, Clary. I'll answer the door."

Clary rolled her eyes in exasperation. The gesture was lost on Jace, however, as he had already sprinted through the doorframe. She unfurled her body and made her way to the main entrance, attempting a rough imitation of Isabelle's graceful walk. As she padded down the corridor she still managed to stub her toe. Hissing in pain, she leaned on the wall for support. As she nursed her injured foot, two voices murmured quietly. One was Jace's husky tones. The other was unfamiliar to her, a soft feminine whisper.

Clary peeked around the corner in time to see the petite blonde's flirtatious glance as she handed Jace a small package. A _gift._ Rage welled within her and she strode towards him. She glared at the two of them.

"Excuse me. I'm not interrupting anything, an I?" She didn't pause for an answer. "I don't know who you are or why you are here, but I have to take my _brother_ away now. We were in the middle of a family meeting, so you really must be going. Goodbye."

The one-sided conversation was given a definite ending when Clary reached between the two and slammed the door. The bang echoed through the halls, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Pivoting on her heels to walk away, Clary was stopped mid stride when Jace grabbed her shoulders, spinning her back around.

"What was _that_?" His eyes narrowed. "She was just delivering something to me!"

Clary flushed and stared determinedly at her toes.

"Well, if you're not going to say anything important, I'd better go. We have an extremely important family meeting that we can't delay." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice, as per usual. "Really, Clary, a family meeting? What was that about? Who even has those anymore?" A sly smile spread across his face as he realized something. "Wait a minute! You were _jealous_, weren't you."

Her face turned an even brighter shade of red, almost matching the hue of her fiery tresses. She glanced up. "I-"

"You _were_!" He crowed, then his eyes softened, displaying vulnerabilities that were only visible around Clary. "Don't be ashamed. In case you hadn't noticed, I positively burn with jealousy every time Simon talks to you."

"Jace, I-" She started, but he cut her off harshly.

"No, Clary, let me speak. You need to know how this," He gestured to both of them and his voice softened "is for me."

Clary's emerald eyes widened. Almost instinctively she leaned towards him and breathed in the cool scent that she cherished. Soap, smoke and the metallic tang of blood were combined to form his oddly comforting aroma. She closed her eyes and sighed. A Shadowhunter's scent.

Jace paused. She looked absolutely beautiful standing in the soft evening light. Positively glowing, her bright hair framed her face like a halo. How he was going to manage a platonic relationship with his angel of a sister was beyond him. A light flush stained her cheeks and when she leaned towards him, eyes closed, her soft pink lips were perfectly kiss-

_No! _Jace chastised himself. _Sister, sister, sister! This is we_ both_ wanted._

He shook her gently and her eyes snapped open, surprised by the contact.

"Clary! You're not making this any less difficult. Look at me." He ran his hands through his already ruffled blond hair.

Clary's fingers twitched with the effort of keeping them from playing with the runaway strands.

"Before I met you, before I discovered that you were my _sister_," He spat out the loathed word. "I never imagined that I would be this jealous of a _mundane_, especially not a mundane so ordinary as yours."

She began to protest, wanting to defend Simon. Jace interrupted her gently this time.

"But I am jealous of him, incredibly so. He has so much more freedom around you than I ever could. _He_ is allowed to follow you with his eyes without seeming overbearingly protective. _He_ can kiss you without getting curious stares."

As if to prove his point, Jace brushed his lips slowly up the line of her cheekbone. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine.

"_He_ can hold you in public," Strong arms wrapped around her. "And hecan even dream about you without feeling ashamed, Clary. I don't _want_ to feel ashamed of us."

"I know," Clary murmured, pressing her face to his chest. "I don't want to be ashamed of us either. I wish… I wish there was some way- That we could-" Her voice broke.

"Clary," He breathed, pulling her chin up to gaze into her deep green eyes." Do you know the thing I am most jealous of?"

She shook her head, not sure if she wanted to know, but still clinging to every word.

His golden eyes seemed to flash a shade darker as he stated, "I am excruciatingly jealous _that you let him_."

Her breathing hitched in her chest as she struggled to find the perfect words. Not being able to find any, she simply said "Jace, I'm _sorry_."

The words set something inside of him off. "No, you aren't, Clary." He hissed scornfully. "You keep apologizing, but you never change. Don't _apologize_ if you don't mean it." He spun on his heels and started to stride away, muttering to himself.

Clary froze, then called plaintively after him. "Jace, wait!"

Jace turned and planted himself in a distinctly unfriendly posture.

"I think I could- I mean- Don't you think we could- Umm-" She stumbled over her words. "Oh, hell. I'm not charming, or good with words like you are Jace. What I mean is-"

She stretched up and pressed her lips against his. She tried to convey all her regret, her longing, her love into that one kiss. Her arms wrapped around him, and his made their way hesitantly around her, pressing their bodies tightly together. Recovering his cocky attitude, he hitched her legs around his waist and pressed her to the wall, lifting her higher so her could attack her elegant neck, kissing and nibbling.

She moaned and tried to form coherent sentences as he continued his assault. Her hands clenched in his hair. "Jace… I think I'd be willing… to try… umm… hiding from everyone. Our relationship, I mean… If you still want to… Ah!"

He paused, glancing up into her eyes. "Are you positive, Clary? I don't want to force-"

"Jace. I'm sure. I wouldn't have said anything if I wasn't." The words tumbled out in a rush of breath as her feet slid to hit the floor. "That's what I was trying to tell you before. At Taki's." She clarified. "But you interrupted me, and I couldn't bear to contradict you when you just decided to be siblings, even though it was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted you to be happy."

"I've already told you, Clary. You feel like _home _to me, and that's the only place I've ever been happy. Where I will ever _be_ happy."

"Of course I feel like home to you," Clary grinned mockingly, lightening the mood abruptly. "We are brother and sister, after all."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence; their paces matched perfectly as they walked down the hall.

Clary cleared her throat. "Umm, so what did that girl deliver, anyway?"

"Well, your birthday is only a couple days away. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't buy you a present?" He teased, eyes sparkling.

"You didn't have to, Jace."

"But I wanted to."

"Oh." Clary muttered under her breath. "Incest never looked so good!"

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." Jace smirked mischievously.

"Oh, nothing."

The only sound as they walked down the hall were Jace's quite chuckles, carefree at last.

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**Ok, so this is it! My first fanfic! Please review, I will be eternaly grateful and love you forever if you do! Unless you flame me, in which case... Umm, you'll just be in big trouble. Let's leave it at that.**

**Once again, I'm sorry if the characters were OOC. Sugestions are welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare, so therefore I own nothing. I do, however, delight in torturing her wonderful characters.** **-maniacal cackle- The chapter name comes from the song _Electric Feel_ by MGMT. **

**Just before we get started, I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed and favorited, you gave me the inspiration to continue with this fic. NINE WHOLE FAVORITES! You guys are making me blush. And remember: REVIEWS EQUAL LOVE! I would have replied to all of you but I just found out how to! And I though I was computer literate! -tear-**

**Enjoy!**

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**With the Voltage Running Through Their Skin**

The Institute was hot and humid, even at night, in the late August heat. Sweltering air draped over the building like one of Magnus's heavy winter cloaks, letting no breeze through the windows, open, desperate to catch the slightest whisper of wind.

In her room, Clary was sure she would suffocate from the torrid heat. She tossed restlessly in her bed, her legs ensnared in the sheets. It wasn't the heat that was bothering her, though, keeping her from drifting off. Though the weather was certainly a part of the reason why, she would be lying if she told herself otherwise. Gently illuminated from the moon's glow, her bedroom appeared bare and monk-like, reminding her of the real reason she couldn't sleep.

_Jace. _

Although they had agreed to conceal their relationship, in the past couple days their had been nothing to conceal. Clary mentally chided herself for this bitter thought. It wasn't as though they hadn't been _trying_. Every time they thought they were alone together, one of the Lightwoods would wander into the room, causing the siblings to spring apart, either picking up a random object in an attempt to look useful, or striking up a harmless conversation.

_Before,_ when they were just being siblings, Clary was sure that all the pent up frustration would cause he to explode, but it was nothing compared to this. The frustration of what you wanted most being within reach, but being unable to grasp it. It was building up inside her. If she couldn't find a release, it would continue to build, until-

_CRASH!_

The door burst open, banging against the wall, as the stagnant air of the Institute began to stir.

Glad of the distraction, Clary rose to shut it. The muggy August breeze was growing stronger, urging her out into the corridor, pushing her to release the flood of frustration.

She stepped into the hallway, and at once, the feeling of the currents surrounding her from every direction took her breath away. Her curls glowed silver in the moonlight as she stood, exultant, reveling in the sensation of the wildly free wind whipping through her hair. This would be the perfect way to spend forever, with all her grievances swept away.

But it was not to be. The wind settled into a soft, almost nonexistent, zephyr once more. The whispers of it sweeping through the curtains of the many open windows seemed to say,_Aren't the Nephilm supposed to be courageous, brave? Go on, take what you want, think of the consequences later._

Clary began creeping down the corridor, trailing her fingers along the wall. Only having walked this way a few times, she could still do it with her eyes closed. The door frame's edges were slightly raised, and she counted as she passed them.

_This was it._ Halting, she tapped on the door as loudly as she dared.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Clary's eyes widened. _What if this was Isabelle's room, and she had miscounted? What if someone came and saw her? _It was unlikely, but Alec did have a habit of wandering restlessly when sleep failed to claim him. Worse yet, _What if _he _didn't feel the same way? _She shuddered at the thought. _What if the longing building under her skin like static electricity wasn't reciprocated?_

These panicked thoughts rampaged through Clary's mind, and she struggled to control her ragged breaths. She was on the verge of hyperventilating when the door creaked open.

In that moment, she forgot to breathe entirely.

If ever before Jace had looked like and angel to her, it paled in comparison to this. Though it was obvious he had just risen from bed, he looked divine. There was no other word for it. The moonbeams that streamed through his open window played upon the plains of his bare chest. They cast a light that changed his usual gold complexion to an incandescent shade of silver. _One of Heaven's host._

But the look in his eyes was far from angelic. His metallic orbs raked over her body, drinking in her slim curves. It almost seemed unreal. How could this vision want _her_? Cute, freckled Clary?

Hesitant, afraid that at any moment he would vanish, she reached to touch him.

With the slightest brush of his skin on hers, the current of desire that had been building within both of them over the past two days released itself. They struggled to find an outlet, seeking as much contact as possible. Her lips trailed searing kisses along his collarbone, straining to meet his. As their lips met, the currents of desperation, need, _guilt_ pulsed through them. And the winds pulsed with them. Tumultuous air flowed around them, binding them together as it lifted them away from society's constraints.

Clary's hands traced the thin lines engraved in his torso, the scars beautiful in their harsh contrast. She engrained the patterns in her mind; hoped desperately they would remain until the next meeting such as this. Her fingers danced along the seams, tracing the waistband of Jace's pajama bottoms.

But asshole-Jace had to return in her one moment free of worry. "Clary, I know I'm irresistible, but you really don't want to go there. " He smirked. "If you _do_ want to continue, bear in mind it's your fault when we have three eyed children."

A sharp, resounding _slap _echoed through the hallway. Clary stepped back, glaring. "Oh, way to break the mood, moron. It's no surprise you've never had a steady girlfriend." Though slightly breathless, her words stung more than the slap had.

Jace gaped, wondering how she had gotten that particular piece of information. "I could have had one if I wanted to," he retorted. "But I don't exactly _need_ one when every girl I know is desperate to be with me." He smirked, then narrowed his eyes. "How did you know, anyway?"

"Isabelle. She thought I deserved to know, that a _sister_ should know-" A large, rough hand clamped over her mouth. "_Jace_," she slurred through his hand. "Jus' 'cause you don'-"

The pressure on her mouth increased and she fell quiet. In the hush that followed she realized the reason for the seemingly unnecessary force.

There was someone walking down an adjacent hall.

She crushed herself to Jace, pushing them into the scant shadow; trying to meld into the stone wall. Breaths became shallow, muscles tensed. Even the slight sound of Clary's breathing muffled in Jace's shoulder felt huge, exposing.

Nearing, the padding footfalls resonated through the corridors.

_One whole year. _A year of hiding emotions, suppressing impulses, and now they were going to be discovered the fourth day after they gave in. These were the moments that Clary had to agree with Jace's theory: there was no higher power. If there _was_ a God, which she seriously doubted at the moment, what kind of sick, screwed up version of Divine Justice was this?

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Drenching her senses in him, she blocked the sound of the footfalls, the worry plaguing her mind; paying attention only to his lime-and-copper scent, the texture of his skin against her cheek, a smooth expanse interspersed by traceries of old Marks.

Against her will, she noticed the steps turn and walk directly towards them. Her eyes squinched tighter as she refused to process this, what it could, _would_ mean for them.

Jace exhaled unevenly in great gasps, his body shaking. Confusion flooded Clary's mind. Even if they had been discovered, she doubted that this would cause Jace, the boy who hadn't shed a tear since he was a young child, to break down. It was only when his taut stance relaxed that she realized: he was _laughing_.

Slowly, she lifted her head from his chest and turned around, still unwilling to look. When she was facing the direction where the steps had stopped, she opened her eyes.

There was nothing there.

Her eyes scanned the corridor, searching for a sign that she hadn't imagined it all. They lingered on a small grey blob on the floor. Her face went slack in disbelief. She was positive if she looked in the mirror right now, her jaw would be hanging down to her waist, at least, like one of those goofy anime character's.

Jace slid down the wall to the floor, shaking with silent laughter. He seemed to have skipped the violent giggling stage of a laugh attack, and gone straight being unable to breathe. "Oh, _Angel_," he wheezed, "You should see your face! Priceless! I knew it was going to be good, but…" He trailed off as he noticed Clary's murderous expression.

Her mind had gone cold. Suddenly she could empathize a lot better with Simon. Two of his hatreds had been made much clearer to her than she had ever wished: his hatred of Jace, foremost, and his hatred of _cats_.

"You _knew_?" Her voice, still quiet, was rising octaves as she attacked. "You _knew_ it was just Church, but you let me panic anyway? Well, _Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern_, you'd better have got me one hell of a good birthday present, or there won't be _any_ children in your future at all, three eyed or otherwise."

He rolled his eyes. "Clary, it was just a joke, you're overreacting."

She glared stonily at him; this was clearly the wrong thing to say. Then she turned with as much dignity as she could muster in her ragged tank top and boxers, and strode down the hallway leaving a very shocked un-shockable Jace in her wake.

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**Edit: When Jace says, "Oh, _Angel,_" he is not using the word as an endearment. It makes sense to me that Shadowhunters would say "Oh, Angel" much as we say "Oh God." Just to clear that up.**

**Ooooh, I feel evil.**

**This scene just sprang to mind and I had to write it, although it is not very similar to what I started with. So here it is.**

**What's the consensus? Love it, like it, hate it? Continue? Just press that purple button and give me your opinions. It's not so hard! And I luuurv constructive criticism, so don't be afraid to point out my writing flaws (I know they're there, I just can't see them!)**

**And if you think of what the present could be, suggestions are welcome!**

**Until next time,**

**Tura**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The name of this chapter belongs to the band Wolf Parade, not me. Unfortunately.**

**So I'm back again! Thanks, for the second time, to all those wonderful people who reviewed and favorited this story. You made this chapter come out so much sooner than it would have otherwise! **

**(And if you haven't figured it out, I still don't own TMI.)**

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**She Is A Runner, He Is His Father's Son**

"But Clary won't get the full effect of the decorations if she helps set up!" Isabelle argued, gesturing dramatically at the cavernous ballroom. Her numerous rune inscribed bangles jangled as she continued to plead with her mother. "We missed her birthday last year, so I want this year to be extraordinary!"

Jace shook his head ruefully. _Why not say it like it is, Izzy? _He thought. _You forgot, even _ignored_ her birthday last year. We all know the truth anyway. No need to sugarcoat it._

Maryse drew in a deep breath as to continue arguing with her middle child, but reconsidered, rubbing her temples. She looked exhausted. "Fine, do whatever you want. Just don't involve me, please."

A triumphant expression spread across Izzy's face as she realized the power she now held. "Jace," she said, her tone turning business-like as he met her gaze, "You will guard her and make sure she doesn't peek." She grinned. "It's what I would do." Pausing to glare at Jace when he rolled his eyes, she continued, "But since you don't think she needs guarding, you can help her clean the weapon room, since that actually _does_ need doing."

"Isabelle," her mother sighed, "The weapons room doesn't need organizing, Surely you could find something else—" Isabelle arched an eyebrow disdainfully, and Maryse conceded wearily. "Fine, then."

.xXx.

As Jace walked with Clary to the weapons room after receiving detailed instructions from Isabelle, another of the now frequent awkward, angry silences ensued. Now that he thought of it, Jace supposed that the stunt with Church in the hallway really _hadn't _been a wise choice. Clary was still ignoring him, even after two days. The incredulous look that had crossed her face, hilarious though it might have been, wasn't worth the unrelenting silences that followed. It was as if, for the past 48 hours, Jace had simply ceased to exist. He would have been able to manage if he knew that her enforced separation was hurting both of them, as cruel as it sounded. But both the icy aura surrounding her and the disregard she held everything he did in seemed too close to uncaring, as if this didn't affect her at all.

That wasn't true though, was it? She did care.

He hoped.

When they got to the weapons room, it was just as Maryse said; it didn't need organizing. Rows of blades lined the walls, and the armor plates and shields hung in their respective places. Jace stood and watched as Clary entered the armory and began pulling weapons from the walls, polishing already spotless blades. She seemed determined to ignore him.

"Clary, we need to talk."

She continued polishing, keeping her head down and industriously sorting the weapons now scattered on the floor. The only sign that she heard him was a mumbled "Cliché, much?"

He supposed it was. Since he met her, his brain had been running on clichés. 'Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest,' and all that.

He filled his voice with the longing he normally kept buried, forbidden by both society and Clary herself. "Clary, _please_."

"Jace," she said tersely, "This will go a lot faster if neither of us talk, and I would like to finish before my birthday party this evening."

Maybe it was just his imagination careening out of control in the seconds of silence that followed, but was the tension so thin in here that you could pop it with a seraph blade? _Whoops, _he thought, _there goes another cliché. _

"Clary, listen to me." He grabbed her shoulders roughly, lift and spinning her so that they were face to face. If she wasn't going to cooperate, he wasn't going to play fair. He lidded his eyes, knowing in the dim light they would smolder seductively. His voice dropped and softened until it was low and sultry. "This has to stop. I don't mind if you punish _me_—" the implications of this statement made Clary whimper, "—but I could think of some better ways." He searched her eyes, open and vulnerable for a moment. Then they became clouded, doubts filming his eyes like cataracts, and he turned away, saying only, "Happy seventeenth, Clary."

The next few hours seemed to drag on, interspersed only by the moments when Jace felt her gaze on him, but looking up, saw her face obscured by a veil of fiery hair, and her eyes fixed on the weapon in front of her. Finally, though each tick of the clock's second hand seemed to fall hours apart, it was time for them to dress for the party. They left the room silently, and began to make their way to Clary's chamber.

.xXx.

She glanced at Jace in her peripheral vision. His features were hard, inscrutable. His eyes were no longer the malleable gold tone that they often acquired around her, but a harsh, flat colour. They stared at the ground in front of them, examining the tiles of the corridor, with the worn dip in the center from generations of Shadowhunter feet scuffing the stones.

Even with the smooth, eroded surface, Clary managed to trip, and she stumbled, almost falling, but catching herself.

Striding on, Jace ignored her, forcing Clary to sprint to catch up.

.xXx.

Clary's relief when they reached her room was tangible. Hurrying to escape the uncomfortable, disconcerting atmosphere, she scooped up the clothes and makeup that Isabelle had spread on her bed, and fled into the sanctuary of her bathroom.

Jace had other ideas. He advanced towards her with his lounging gait, cat-like in its effortless grace, and slouched against the door frame, preventing Clary from shutting the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Guarding you. I am under Isabelle's strict orders not to let you out of my sight until we get to the party."

Clary felt her face flood red with anger as she realized what this would require. She threw the bundle into the sink and it landed with a clatter as the various tubs of eye shadow scattered. One lid came loose; its contents staining the marble the coppery brown shade of dried blood. "Well, you can te—"

Smoothly, he interrupted his words both harsh and formal. "If you have a problem with the arrangement, take it up with Isabelle. However, I cannot let you go find her, as she doesn't want you anywhere near the party you're ready. I suggest you change now so we can leave as soon as possible."

Clary turned her back to him, trying to imagine this away, that he wasn't doing this to her _on her birthday_. Her eyes stung with tears of humiliation as she struggled into the green dress that Isabelle had provided. "Why are you _doing _this?" she whispered as she inched the spaghetti-strapped dress over her jeans and shirt, more to herself than to Jace.

"I—what is it you _mundanes_ say?" She could hear the cruel smirk in his voice. "Oh yes. I obey the letter of the law, not the spirit."

A string of obscenities ran through Clary's mind as her shame turned to fury. Cursing Jace for being the insufferable, arrogant prick he was, cursing Isabelle for giving the ill-worded orders, cursing her mother for even giving _birth_ to such an horrible child.

Turning to the mirror, she swiped a random eye shadow across her lids. It's not like it made a difference. They all looked red, anyway. As she attempted to blend the shadow, she kept her eyes lock on her face, refusing to take in her whole appearance. In her rumpled dress and her sloppy makeup, she probably looked worse than she did before. She was too angry to care right now. If Isabelle wanted her to look perfect, she should have dressed Clary herself, instead of letting Clary do it.

She discovered rune-patterned bracelets and a thigh sheath complete with a seraph blade of an unknown name in the pile. Like that was useful. She shoved them on, feeling like a packaged doll. She could see the ads now: _Buy your own ShadowhunterBarbie today! Comes complete with demon slaying accessories and slutty clothing. Sharp blades may not be suitable for children of any age. Batteries not included._

Yanking her jeans from under the dress, she saw that Isabelle had finally decided to work with her style, instead of ignoring it completely. The dress was something Clary might actually buy herself, with its thin straps, elegant cut, and jagged, swirling skirt. Or maybe Isabelle had toned down the suggestive nature of her choice for the conservative Shadowhunters that would be attending the party. Probably the second one. Even if they _did _get along now, Clary didn't think she was that considerate.

As Clary turned towards Jace, telling him that he could leave, she would be going to the party now and wouldn't need a bodyguard anymore, he almost regretted treating her so callously. She looked stunning in the forest green dress; though he might be slightly biased. Still, he couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed that she was wearing green, not black. It was _the _Shadowhunter colour, after all. But the dress made her appear more pixie-like than usual, exuding the kind of whimsical mystery belonging to the fey, without any of their dangerous, violent beauty.

His reverie was interrupted when she glared and stormed past him. As he followed her down the corridor he wondered absently if she saw the antagonistic glint fading from his eyes. Every reason that had existed for his cold behavior (was there any in the first place?) had vanished from his mind. All that was left was the foreign and slightly acrid taste of guilt that lingered on his tongue.

Why _had _he done it? Perhaps it was simply the blood in his veins that urged him to destroy every chance at happiness that came along. The Morgenstern blood that whispered in his ear every moment he spent with Clary. _To love is to destroy._Over and over it repeated in his mind. Hollowing out his will to do the right thing by Clary, even if it didn't align with what the world thought was right. Revealing the Jace that was more like his father than he would ever like to admit, with the words and heartless smirks that were calculated to cause the most pain.

They neared the party now, and the warm bass lines of the live band Izzy hired pulsed through the thick stone walls. Hurrying his pace to keep up with Clary, who was eager to get to the party, he had to laugh. Who would ever think that Clary would want to go to a party? But, as he watched her stride into the ballroom, her back straight and proud, his mood turned serious again. He decided that this, more than anything, more than what he had planned for later, would be his birthday present to her: that he would strive never to act like a Morgenstern towards her, destroying every good thing he touched.

This above all else, he would do for her.

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**Sooo once again, this chapter veered completely off course. It used to be this fluffy happy little creation, until... SOMETHING happened. I'm not sure what. It was also going to be much longer to include the party also, but it kept growing, so I decided to cut it off. Long chapters are good, but making you guys wait another week is not.**

**And to Wolfy101, who pointed out that Chapter 2 was slightly OOC, THANK YOU! -huggles- I went back and looked at it, and Oh. My. Jace. it was! So I edited it, hopefully its better now, and this chapter isn't OOC also.**

**Anyhoo, tell me what you thought! (And if you think I leave ridiculously long ANs you can tell me to shut up, I don't mind!)**

**Review!**

**Tura**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I have never owned something as valuable as the Mortal Instruments, darnit!  
****Oh, and I don't own the chapter name either. It comes from the song _Coppertone_ by The Academy Is... It _is not_ mood music for the chapter though, just to make that clear. 'Cause it doesn't fit at all. I just liked the quote.**

**I humbly beg your forgiveness for this being a few days later than I told some of you it would be. I won't try to excuse that, but I will apologize again. I'm sorry!**

**Thanks again to the Review Crew, you guys make me so happy!**

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**Besides, Every Heart is like a House of Cards (Just Ready to Implode)**

Clary had to fight to prevent large part of her anger from dissipating as she entered the party. It was near impossible to be in a bad mood in a room that contained this much _energy_, but she didn't want to let go yet. The room was huge, cavernous. Beneath the murmur of conversation, bassy melodies of the live band Isabelle hired could be heard. She was sure that she didn't know half of the people, yet here they were, celebrating her birthday. Celebrating the birthday of Valentine's daughter, the girl who could create runes no one had seen before. The girl who was in love with her brother. They didn't know that though, and Clary preferred to keep it that way.

Iridescent globes shimmered overhead, glowing with subdued, sensual colours. They sent patterns of light, dim and dancing, cascading over the crowd beneath them. In a very un-Shadowhunter-like fashion there was not one black object in the room, though many of the people in the room were dressed in the gloomy colour. Isabelle must have recruited Magnus to help decorate, Clary thought. The orbs suspended in mid air were all Isabelle, but she could see some of Magnus in the walls that sparkled with gravity defying glitter.

Isabelle's sinuous walk as she approached sent jolts of envy through Clary. Why had she been so careless dressing again? In her haste to escape from her room she forgot that she would be standing next to this flawless girl all night, looking disheveled and unprepared.

Isabelle was wearing a floor length midnight blue gown that glimmered in the flickering lights. The halter strap that exposed her upper back combined with her hair pulled up into an intricate bun revealed the inky black permanent marks that twined over her body. Her smile as she saw the siblings approach was incandescent, brighter than anything else in the room. As she neared, taking in Clary's appearance, the smile faltered and became a nose wrinkled of distaste. Isabelle swept past them, looping her arm through Clary's as she did, and pulled her into a back room.

"What _happened_ to you?" she said, digging through her purse before pulling out a compact. A few carefully curled ringlets spilled into her face. The fond, teasing smile that showed when she looked up told Clary the words weren't meant harshly. It looked strange, out of place on Izzy's face. "I thought I taught you better than that."

"Jace." Clary grimaced as Izzy touched up Clary's makeup with a slight pressure on her eyelids. She knew Isabelle would understand. After all, who _didn't_Jace piss off? Still, she hoped her voice didn't sound as weak, as vulnerable, as she thought it did.

"Open," she commanded. Meeting Clary's gaze, her coal black eyes looking suprisingly sincere, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" Clary could only manage to shake her head wordlessly. Attempting a tone of righteous indignation, Isabelle said, "What? Don't look at me like that. I can be understanding occasionally. When I feel like it."

.xXx.

Jace watched, eyebrows raised, as Clary re-entered the room and practically raced towards Simon. The bloodsucker was standing next to him, shoulders hunched self-consciously. It was nice to know he was still found intimidating. He didn't scare the leech enough, though. As Clary wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, Simon _smirked_at Jace over her shoulder.

_That self-satisfied bastard! _Jace thought, outraged. It was _his_ job to smirk. Jace's, _not_Simon's. Sometimes he regretted ever saving that idiot from an eternity of almost-death. Freely giving the leech his blood had caused a number of unwelcome side effects. Certain Shadowhunter traits, passed through the bloodlines, now ran in Simon's veins, like the ability to enter the Institute at all times.

"Simon!" Clary exclaimed as she pulled out of the hug, "I'm glad you're here, but couldn't you've dressed nicer? Now all these important people think my best friend is a slob!"

"They wouldn't be too far off," Jace chimed in. He didn't have to be nice to Simon as well as Clary, after all. "And if you were trying for a windblown look, you missed your mark. It looks like your head got caught in a jet turbine. Not sexy at all."

"Your mom's not sexy at all," Simon responded unenthusiastically. Though one of the eternally sleepless, Simon appeared to be too tired to come up with a proper retort.

"Actually, if Jocelyn," —he had never gotten comfortable with calling her 'Mom'— "wasn't my mother, I'd say she's quite sexy, for a middle aged lady that is. Smexy, even, I dare say. Especially compared to your mom, Simon. No offense, but she's—" he made a gesture over his stomach that ballooned outward "—sort of plump_._"

Alec wandered over, joining the group with Izzy. "What are you guys talking about that has Clary so disturbed?" Isabelle had obviously played dress-up with him as well; he was outfitted in a silk shirt in a hue that matched her dress.

"Oh," said Jace, basking in the horrified glances from the people surrounding him, "We were just discussing whose mom is sexier. Right now Jocelyn is winning. What do you think of Maryse, Simon?"

Simon's eyes swept across the room until they found the subject of conversation. He considered. "Well, she's got that whole 'Shadowhunter dominatrix' thing going for her, you know? But," he added in a whisper, "She's _scary_."

"She's not that frightening. Once you get to know her."

Simon wiggled his eyebrows as a slow, perverted smile spread on his face.

Alec clamped his hands over his ears as if that could help him unhear what was just said about his mom. "I am NOT having this conversation," he said firmly. "In fact, I think I'll leave now. Has anyone seen Magnus?"

Clary gestured vaguely towards the buffet. "He might be over there. He's probably gone by now, though." Magnus had been drawing at least as many disapproving glances from the more traditional Shadowhunters. They seemed to find his flamboyant dress and snarky humor offensive, though it was hard to say if it was that or the fact that three Downworlders had been invited to a Shadowhunter party.

As Alec wandered off, Luke entered the circle. "Clary," he greeted, giving her a weak smile, "Happy birthday."

She smiled, thanking him. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Luke made a feeble excuse about seeing a Shadowhunter friend he hadn't talked to "in ages." There had been that tension between them for a while. It wasn't awkward necessarily, just an uneasy silence between two introverts when they both knew there was something that should be discussed, and neither had the courage to bring it up for a while. It had been like that for a year, almost.

Clary's mind instinctively retreated from that line of thought, from the memories. As she looked at Simon, they bumped back in again. Once they resurfaced, it was extremely hard to let them go again. All that was left of them were impressions, vague strokes of a paintbrush. Seemingly meaningless up close, they coalesced into a horrifying image when viewed together. Memories that were better off forgotten. They forced their way into her mind, worming through the cracks in her defenses.

_The light refracted blindingly off the crystal tiers of Alicante. Her clothes, plastered to her body, were sticky with sweat and blood. Her heart stopped for a second as she saw the shock of white hair on a too-young face. Helplessly watching a dagger, blazing like a fallen angel, streaking towards hair as brown as grave dirt and pale-as-death skin. Honey brown fur flashed through her sight, and a sickening _thud_resounded in her ears as the dagger struck the wrong target. Maia. A darker brown figure arrived a moment too late, morhping into something almost human before challenging the murderer._

Blinking a couple times, she blocked the rest of the memory out before she drowned in the guilt. She became aware that everyone was looking at her. Simon's wide eyes, once almost ebony, now held honey gold flecks along with pity. Opening his mouth, Jace shut it again when he found nothing to say.

Like so many things in her life, his searching for words felt _wrong._ And like so many times, when things were wrong, she fled. With a voice not nearly as even as her racing steps, she called out, "How about we get some food? I'm _starving_."

She heard the clicking of Isabelle's heel following her, but Jace and Simon's near silent paces were drowned out by the music. She began loading her plate with unfamiliar foods, but stopped when a warm body grazed her own.

Jace's voice, low and exasperated, sounded in her ear. "Clary, I'm sorry, OK? You can stop acting like this now."

"No, it's not that. Not anymore." Just the death of a curvy, troubled girl who was quickly becoming her friend. At least it wasn't a pointless death, though did murder ever have justification? A redemptive death, anyway, to sacrifice yourself instead of allowing a friend to perish in front of your eyes.

"Walk with me." Jace's commanding tone prevented her from succumbing once again to the memory she would rather not revisit in public.

"Clary, what's wrong?" Simon's anxious features appeared in her view. "Where are you going?"

"Clary needs fresh air." Something in his voice reassured Simon, who allowed the siblings to brush past him and into the hallway.

.xXx.

The warm breeze cooled Clary's flushed face as she stepped out the back door of the Institute. Inhaling deeply the air that was free of the multitude of perfumes trapped in the ballroom, she was surprised to find that it helped calm her. Her eyes swept the garden. Normally a bright, cheerful place, it had an eerie feel to it in the moon, like the garden of Hades, with the austere beauty of death and stone. She felt drawn to its center, compelled to walk the chipped pathways. Jace's muffled footfalls followed her until suddenly, she stopped in front of a statue.

Vines, sprouting the occasional luminous white blossom, clung to the marble surface of an exquisite, unclad woman. She was preserved through the centuries in the fluid motion of offering delicate pomegranate seeds to a sparrow that had alighted on her hand. Pale blue light reflected off her petrified skin and the satiny surface of the vine leaves, giving her a magnificence that brightened garden surrounding her.

The compulsion that had urged Clary to this place vanished as she reached forward and plucked an ivory, trumpet-like flower from the vines.

She turned towards Jace, who began talking as their eyes met. His words, barely understandable, hissed through his teeth. "What exactly is it you want from me, Clary? Because you aren't being very clear and I'm tired of guessing what you want. Honestly, most of the time it feels like you're guessing what you want too, like you don't really know. So do you really want me to stay, or should I just leave now and save everyone a lot of pain?"

As he talked, his expression became more and more devoid of emotion, and there was a long pause as he struggled to find the next words. Clary was about to answer when he began, haltingly, to speaking again.

"Sometimes, in this mess we're in, I know I've never felt anything so _right, _and I can say that I'm _happy. _But then something like this happens, when I don't know up from down, and it's hard to remember that they were there in the first place. Clary, I'm so consumed with doubts sometimes it feels like I can't breathe, like they're filling my lungs. And I don't want to live with that anymore. So _choose_."

Clary shivered, tears sliding down her face. The wind seemed cold now as it whipped against her fresh tear tracks. The flat, blank look in his eyes filled her with an intense longing to banish that look from his life.

She stepped forwards, leaning into him, and his arms wrapped around her body hesitantly. Her voice, though unsteady, was fierce. "Don't you even _think_of leaving, Jace. I'm going through the exact thing you are here. What you described matches my fears perfectly." The corner of her mouth twitched up in a mockery of a smile. "I guess communication isn't strong in our family, is it?"

His choked laugh vibrated through his torso. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, smiling through her tears. The rough pad of his thumb caressed her cheek, wiping the liquid away. His lips touched her forehead, feather light, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

.xXx.

It was amazing what people could overlook, how they could be so blind to something so obvious, only because it didn't agree with their viewpoint. Thinking back, all the signs were there: the casual avoidance, the lack of sibling rivalry, the self-conscious interaction. And here was proof. An embrace, far to intimate for brother and sister, with their bodies pressed into enough space for a single person. Tears slid down the redhead's face, a look of heartbreaking acceptance on her face. The boy's golden eyes melted for a moment, before he dried the tear tracks from her face, lips brushing against the girl's forehead, and against her lips. As their lips met, a crumpled white blossom drifted to the ground where it lay, forgotten.

The watcher turned away and crept silently back to the ballroom.

* * *

**Oooo, the non-existent plot thickens!**

**I was thinking that I should go back and edit the first chapter, 'cause it doesn't match the rest of the fic at all. But I think I'll wait untill this is actually finished, and then rewrite it. Opinions?**

**And just in case anyone thinks I plagarized the summary because it sounds familiar to you, it's from another of my fics, Whispering, Wanting, Waiting.**

**Hugs to anyone who caught the allusions and symbolism in the last two scenes, they were so much fun to write in!**

**Remember: reviews (from you) equals love (from me)! Tell me what you loved, liked, hated, how I can improve my writing, ANYTHING!**

**Tura**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so, soooooooooooo sorry I've been gone so long. I have a trillion excuses, and they all seem like good ones in my mind, but they would bore you, so I'm just going to say I had a mini-block. If it makes my absence any better, this chapter is extra long, about 1,000 words more than usual.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited, you guys are amazing! Also a huuuuuge thanks goes to my new beta, SamFancyPants, who points out when something is good, is never afraid to say when it's forced or missing something, and is just in general completely awesomesauce.**

**I still don't own TMIand the characters inside, but I do own (sortof) the situations I put them through, the characters I create, and the words I write. As much as I can over the Internet. Also, choice sentences belong to the afformentioned Beta of Awesomeness (that's her title as of now)! (The chapter title is from Default's song _It Only Hurts.)_**

* * *

**It Only Hurts When Eyes Are Open (Truth Is Spoken)**

As their lips met, Clary felt her fears begin to melt away and her being infuse itself with a new sense of confidence. The finality of their decision had opened a new vein in their relationship. Previously unknown emotions poured out, making the kiss slower, more tender, but no less passionate then before. Gently, almost hesitantly, Jace pulled out of the kiss, as if afraid to break this newfound understanding. He kept Clary clasped tightly to his chest and buried his face in her curls, inhaling deeply.

"By the Angel, Clary," he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair. "Why do you have to be so damn tempting? Someone could have seen us."

"I like the sound of that." Clary replied, then hastily added, "Being your temptation, I mean."

They stayed pressed together, reveling in their solitude, their complete isolation from all the people they knew. With the breeze through the trees being the only sound in the garden, it was easy to imagine themselves back to last year.

Izzy's voice drifted across the garden, breaking their reverie.

"Clary?" she called, "Are you out here? We're opening presents whether you're there or not, so if you don't want yours then I'll have to keep them."

"I'll be there in a minute," Clary called back, her voice tense. A thousand thoughts cascaded through her mind. If Isabelle had seem them, would it have looked like Jace had been giving her a brotherly hug, or something more?

Isabelle's voice began to fade into the distance. "I'll tell them you're coming."

Clary whirled to face Jace again. Her eyes flitted across his face, words barely escaping from her lips before being swallowed by the dark. "You don't think she saw us, do you? It didn't sound like she did. But just in case, which is more suspicious: us going in separately and someone catching us, or going in together?"

"Breathe deeply, Clary. If she saw us, she would have said something. Isabelle can't keep her mouth shut about anything exciting. We can go in separately, though. I won't be caught. " With that, Jace sprung off the ground to land on the unclad statue.

Clary felt a pang of inane jealousy awaken inside her. It was quickly shoved aside by the anxiety that appeared every time he jumped.

"Be care-" she started, but he was already out of hearing distance, clambering up the vine-covered walls of the Institute.

Trudging the path to the Institute, Clary was surprised to find how much longer it seemed then the original journey had. She entered the party again and the multitude of colours, sounds and scents became overwhelming. The potent perfumes that lingered in air long after their wearer had passed, coupled with the dancing lights assaulted her mind, bogging it. As she became accustomed to the haze that clouded her mind, Simon's face appeared.

His voice rang harshly through the fog. "Clary, what's going on?"

Was sneaking behind his back about something he so obviously detested making her paranoid, or was there really another question behind the obvious one?

_Nothing. Everything. _"I just can't decide whether I'm pleased that you and Jace have decided to get along, or if I'm disgusted that you think my mom's sexy," she said.

"That's not it." It was obviously paranoia making her panic, for Simon still smiled in his oblivious, caring way. "You're biting your lip, Clary."

Clary touched her lip wonderingly. It was clamped between her teeth. As always, her tell showed up at the most inconvenient time.

"I don't really want to talk about it," she mumbled, hoping the scanty explanation would suffice.

"It's _her_, isn't it? Maia. Being around Luke and Jace reminds me, too."

"I know my hair and eyes remind me of your favorite Cullen pin-up, but I really don't need my sister exposed to that."

"Jesus, Jace!" Clary's breath whooshed out of her. "You need to stop appearing like that. Someday someone's going to have a heart attack."

"Clary, Jonathon!" Jocelyn called from across the room, her eyes practically glowing with the words. "There's someone here who wants to meet you. This is one of the more prominent female Clave members, Aurelia de Cruce"

The woman standing with Jocelyn was exactly the type of woman you'd expected to "adopt" a baby over the black market. Pristine, all cinnamon hair and ivory skin and long lashes, she looked the sort of person who was afraid of imperfection, afraid of pain. She smiled at the siblings, sending a shiver down Clary's spine. It was clear that though this woman might not battle demons or Downworlders, she had weapons enough in that razor-sharp smile.

"You two must be Jocelyn's famous angel-children!" she exclaimed. "I've heard so much about you!" She daintily held out one hand, as if she expected Jace to kiss it.

"You think?" Jace tugged at his shirt, examining the black silk and emerald buttons. "I _knew_ I should have got Isabelle to tone down the colour coordination."

Aurelia simpered. "Your son is simply charming, Jocelyn. It's a wonder he doesn't have a girlfriend here!"

Clary cleared her throat awkwardly. "It's lucky he doesn't have one here. His _girlfriends_ tend to be rather…physical."

"Clary!" Jocelyn chastised. Turning to the Clave member, she said, "Sorry about that. They're trying to fit fifteen years of fighting into one."

"That's fine, dear." The saccharine smile reappeared. "Have you thought about moving back to Idris? Your children's gifts would give you a place of honor in our city."

Jocelyn blinked, uncomprehending. Then the shock slid from her face, and her expression became great and terrible, the expression of a mother willing to sacrifice herself to save her children. It was like looking in a mirror between worlds: the kindly, chaotic woman from New York and the refined, stately one from both with their dark red hair and eerily similar smiles.

"Thank you, but no." Jocelyn replied. "Until I stop making the decisions for my children they will stay here, with their family and their friends. Where they belong."

Clary smiled, uncomfortable. "I think Isabelle wanted me to find her," she said, extricating herself from the situation. "It was nice meeting you."

Clary began heading towards the cluster of people, Jaceher silent shadow. Isabelle was almost certainly at the center of the crowd. Slipping through the spaces between people's bodies, she wove her way to the center.

Isabelle was clearly in her element inside. She had commanded everyone'sattention completely, her bright, infectious presence captivating them. She looked up and immediately began to introduce the newcomers. "For everyone that hasn't met this amazing couple--" Clary lurched to a stop. Beside her, Jace continued walking slowly through the crowd. As different as they were, why wasn't the exact same thought running through his mind? _Was it possible that Isabelle had seen them and was revealing them in front of half the Shadowhunter population?_"--of Shadowhunters because they've been acting like the antisocial rejects they are for the past hour, these are the children of Jocelyn Fairchild, Jace and Clary."

Isabelle continued with her spiel on the two teens and Clary zoned out, focusing instead on the surrounding people. Her eyelids began to droop now that she was still, making many of the Shadowhunters blur into each other with their dark, serious clothing. Magnus, in his vivid, almost garish suit stood out in sharp focus against the background of mottled hues. While everyone else was standing, Magnus lay sprawled on one of his "borrowed" armchairs. Alec also came into focus when he appeared out of the crowd by Magnus's side, saying, "Where were you? I've been looking everywhere for you."

"You found me," Magnus said, grinning lazily and tracing Alec's jaw line with a silver nail. He tugged Alec's hand, making him fall gentle into the chair, which stretched itself to accommodate.

"But, Magnus, we have to _do _something. _I_ have to do something."

Magnus's brow wrinkled with concern. " You didn't have any faerie wine, did you? You're not being coherent."

"I… Of course not! What kind of Shadowhunter do you think I am?" Alec sputtered.

"A strong one. An amazing one. A _beautiful _one." Magnus grinned lasciviously at him. "But really, what's wrong?"

"Never mind." Alec leaned into the High Warlock, toying with the silken cloth of his shirt. Wearily, his eyes closed, as if they had already seen enough this evening.

.xXx.

Most of the gifts from the Shadowhunters present were predictable. Many of the stylishly wrapped packages contained various weapons; seraph blades, throwing daggers, an electrum whip. Clary was sure if the old, grey-haired Clave member that bought the whip had known her at all, he would havechosen something else for fear of Clary tangling her own limbs in the wire. Much to her surprise, Jocelyn gave Clary a full set of Shadowhunter regalia in the strange, shiny black fabric laced with runes. It seemed her mom had finally accepted the idea of her only daughter becoming a demon hunter.

Simon on the other hand, was always trying to draw her back into the mundane world. He handed her an envelope with certificates promising art lessons, not at the Tisch, but at a hole-in-the-wall art shop that they often visited together.

"And Clary," Simon started, "The band's getting gigs now, so if you'd like to drop by..." He let the invitation hang in the air.

Clary was astonished. "Since when did you guys are actually make music?"

Jace had to add something, of course. "The part _I'm_surprised about is the whole "gigs" thing. I can't see them actually practicing enough to get one, and I doubt that even Simon's "vampiric charm" is doing anything to help. No one notices the drummer."

"That is _not_ true," Simon said, indignant. "The drummer is one of the most important members in the band. Without the drummer--"

"Sure, keep thinking that." Jace turned away, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

Clary turned and Alec shoved a CD, bare of all wrappings, into her hands. His eyes refused to meet hers, but stayed fixed on the floor. "I went to the music store and asked what girls your age would listen to," he said. "So, what do you think?"

Though she wouldn't tell him, she despised everything about the band; from their horny teenage-boy lyrics, to the garishly bright, clashing colours of the band logo, to the manufactured electro pop they bottled.

"Thanks, Alec," she stammered out. "That was really—considerate of you." For once, she was grateful for his complete cluelessness. But she didn't need to have worried. His eyes held a faraway, distracted look like he was contemplating something, or daydreaming about a secluded corner with Magnus. Her eyes flickered towards Magnus unintentionally.

The warlock smirked up at her from where he slouched, spreading his arms in a mock-apologetic gesture. "There's no gift here, Freckles, just my illustrious presence."

"You're lucky to have even got that," Isabelle said, handing her a package that jangled and rattled as it moved. "Mom was considering not letting him come to the party, even after he helped decorate."

Clary flinched, waiting for Maryse's fury to be released on Isabelle. The raven-haired Shadowhunter knew what she was doing, however: her mom was nowhere to be seen.

Isabelle's gift was predictable, almost too predictable: more rune-inscribed jewelry and a promise to take her shopping sometime.

She thanked Izzy, and turned her expectant gaze on Jace. "And what do you have for me, brother dearest?" Her voice was saturated with a sickly sweetness.

"It's not here now, little sister." He gave a sardonic smile. "There was a slight… _problem_with the delivery service," he said, knowing that only Clary would understand the double entendre in his words.

"That's _unfortunate_," she replied with a small shrug, meeting his golden gaze with a challenging one of her own.

Tearing her eyes away, she found them trapped again in Alec's chilling, ice blue stare.

.xXx.

A metallic clanging filled the kitchen. Most of the edge had been filtered off the sound of dishes being jostled from the soapy dishwater. Although Isabelle had made them exempt from setting up, she was only too happy to let Clary and Jace clean up after the party. Clary was laboriously scrubbing pots while Jacedried them beside her.

"Isn't this what magic is for?" Clary grumbled, not for the first time.

Jacejust laughed. No matter how many times he explained it to her, the decade and a half of mundane propaganda had imprinted on her mind this one idea: magic was not something to be used sparingly, but for every single unpleasant menial task that needed doing.

Snatches of Alec and Isabelle's conversation drifted across the room on a breeze from the open door.

"… I just don't know what to do," Alec was saying.

Clary turned, curious. She was fascinated, entranced by the glimpses into Alec and Izzy's relationship. She couldn't even imagine Alec without Izzy by his side, and vice-versa. Though opposite ends of the extreme, when together they balanced each other out. They were intimate, far closer than any other siblings Clary had ever seen, but not too close. It was the kind of relationship Clary longed for, the kind that sent a pang through her heart with jealousy and simultaneously made her heart ache with the beauty of it.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Izzy's piercing shriek reverberated off the wall, shattering Clary's musings.

Jaceshot Clary an amused look and they spun to see what Alec had done this time. When they turned, however, Isabelle's formidable glare was fixed not on her ice-eyed brother, but on themselves. Alec was at her side, his expression clearly one he had learned from Jace; blank and emotionless. A flicker of discomfort flitted across his face as Izzy screeched again in his ear.

"Yes, you two! Don't stand there with that smirk Jace, I _know._" Her voice became quieter and filled with venom as she advanced. "Do you know how _wrong_ this is? Or do you just not care? Never mind that it's probably illegal."

"What's illegal?" Simon's hushed footsteps had gone unnoticed by the Shadowhunting teens. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he seemed to realize the answer was obvious. His eyes narrowed, calculating that only thing Clary's cornered expression and the indifferent mask that Jace wore could mean.

"Oh," he said, "forget I asked." Despite his words, he continued towards the group, drawn into a whirlpool of morbid curiosity, disgust, and masochism.

"You mean you knew?" Isabelle's voice was deadly quiet now as she whirled towards Simon. "How long has this been going on?"

"Exactly a year now, isn't it?" Simon asked grimly.

Clary began to plead. "It's not like that, can't you see? It's only—"

"Oh, really?" Alec interjected. Though he answered Clary, his bottle blue eyes were stayed trained on Jace. "Because what I see is that you and your brother—" His lip curled around the word, as if trying to prevent any part of the incestuous relationship from contaminating his body. "—have been doing the Angel knows what for a year. A whole fucking year."

Jace chose this moment to add a smart remark to the conversation. "I wouldn't call it that, Alec. A _fucking_ year. 'Cause—" He cut off as Clary's elbow jabbed in between his ribs.

"You aren't helping," she hissed. A moment of absolute, stunned silence ensued. Three pairs of incredulous eyes stared at her, causing her to shrink back.

It was Simon's voice that broke the silence first. "_He's_ not helping, Clary? The only thing that could help was if this—this _liaison_ never existed in the first place."

"Liaison, Simon?" Jace bit back a laugh. "You make it sound like some cheap, soap opera affair."

"Isn't it? You have the elements. Fancy parties, secret meetings, obnoxious dialogue—"

"Shut up, Lewis," Isabelle snapped.

Jace smirked. "Listen to the lady, bloodsucker. You have much to learn."

"You too, Wayland. Fray. Morgenstern. _Jace. _You have no right to tell anyone what to do after this. You haven't made an important decision in your life that hasn't hurt people who love you, have you? Do you now how this is going to affect your mother? She finally found you, after sixteen years of believing you're dead, and you decide to be utterly selfish, as usual, and do this to her. You didn't even think about how she would feel, I bet."

Clary felt, rather than saw, Jace's breath hitch in his chest as if the weight of his choices had struck is chest and knocked the wind out of him. "You're right, Isabelle. I forget she's even my mother sometimes."

She blinked, astonished. It seemed she had forgotten her most important rule for dealing with Jace: Never ask a question you wouldn't want answered completely and truthfully. Before she could get too sidetracked, she rounded on Clary.

"And _you_, Clarissa." The words of the sharp attack staccatoed in Clary's ears, disjointed. "You knew what this would do to your mom, you could have stopped it. You had a year to stop it, like we all thought you did when you found out you were related. You're being even more selfish than Jace, if that's possible. I would have thought _you_ at least would have more sense than that."

"Isabelle," Clary began, softly, as if she feared being too assertive, showing too much defiance, would set her off again. "You're talking like we had a choice. Like we didn't _try_to fight it. You wouldn't—can't understand, you've never felt like this." She trained her eyes on Alec imploringly. "Alec, imagine if you found out that Magnus was related to you. What would you do?"

"That's—that's different." He flushed. His eyes that had before held the crystalline clarity of self-righteousness were uncertain.

"It's not so different, and you know it." Clary's tone was soothing now. "You aren't going to tell anyone, are you? You can't."

The kitchen was hushed as everyone took in this last piece of information. Clary looked around at the array of expressions in the room; a row of statues, a wall of masks. Simon seemed resolute, his face clear and stern. Whether or not this was a good thing, Clary didn't know. She could, however, tell that Alec wouldn't tell. The way his eyes kept flicking to the door, as if to find Magnusbetrayed the fact that Clary had hit a nerve. Isabelle was clearly thinking, biting her lip and staring hard at the pair before her.

Clary couldn't look at Jace. She was afraid that he had traded his mask away, afraid of seeing his face bare, defenseless. The idea was completely alien to her.

The silence was only broken when Isabelle finally spoke. All she said was, "I don't know, Clary. I don't know."

* * *

**Well, there it is! I hope it was worth the wait. I'm rather proud of it!**

**On a** **slightly random note, Gemma227** **is holding a 2009 TMI Fanfiction Award in the forum section. If you adore TMI fanfiction (and I'm sure you do) you should go nominate your favorite fics. I'm not asking you to nominate me (although that would be lovely), it's just the awards needed publicity.**

**Reviews and anything else you care to leave are much appreciated!**

**Toodles!**

**~Tura**


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